


Hear Me Out

by vanishingbyler



Category: Rise (TV 2018)
Genre: ((the death is only mentioned briefly and it's an oc)), Big Brother Jeremy, Coming Out, Communication, Deaf Character, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Religion, i've been writing this for days and i'm going to be late to a train station because of it, they actually communicate for the first time in their damn lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishingbyler/pseuds/vanishingbyler
Summary: When things at home reach an unbearable point, Jeremy takes Simon into his home for a night.





	Hear Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> hi ok this is a loT i just wanted to get some backstory for jeremy down bc i love him a lot nd he doesnt get enough screen time but also i need to post this before my laptop runs out of charge so if there's mistakes dont bully me i didnt proofread this and im laTE
> 
> follow me on tumblr/send requests @gaydisastersimonspier

The sun is setting as Jeremy meanders out of school with Michael and Maashous, the last Tuesday before opening night. They’re the last to leave, the building dark behind them, and the empty parking lot makes their laughter echo around them.

 

Jeremy is happy. He’s had a rough few weeks, what with the Simon Situation, but the slump in his mood brought about the unexpected bonus of he, Michael, and Maashous becoming much closer. The two of them have figured out all the best ways to make him laugh, as well as all the things that upset him. Maashous guessed what was happening with Simon in next to no time. Maybe Jeremy isn't as subtle as he'd like to think.

 

“Shit! I left my jacket inside.”

“You want us to wait?”

“Nah, don't worry about it. See you tomorrow?”

 

His friends grin at him as he jogs back to the entrance. Luckily for him, the janitor is still around so the doors aren't locked yet. He moves through the halls quietly, having never really noticed how eerie this place was after dark. Usually he leaves with a group of people and the inane chatter fills the space enough for it not to feel so empty. 

 

Jeremy has never liked silence.

 

He speeds up a little towards the green room, anxious to pick up his hoodie and get back home before the ominous quiet becomes overpowering.

 

The silence is broken by gentle sniffles as he enters the room. He calls out to try and find the source of the tears, but gets no answer (save for a shocked gasp and the shuffling of someone trying to cover their audible tracks). Jeremy feels uneasy as he takes slow steps to the chair is jacket is slung over, looking round as if there’s a predator on the loose. He can’t help but feel he recognises the cadence of the sobs. Only a little, like it’s coming from someone he doesn’t know well, but there’s a familiarity. He’s almsot certain whoever is crying is a part of the troupe. With that in mind, he calls out again.

 

“Hello?”

 

No answer. His fists are clenched, a wave of anxiety washing over him, but he knows his conscious couldn’t handle it if he left now. He keeps walking around the room. He thinks he can trace the noise to the table near the toaster.

 

“Hello?”

 

He sees movement, and knows his directional hearing didn’t fail him. Sat, knees curled into his chest and hands covering hs mouth to contain the sobs, is Simon. He’s on the ground, coat wrapped round him like a blanket. He’s shaking a little, aiming his eyes anywhere but at jeremy, and it’s heartbreaking.

 

Jeremy falters, knowing full well that he’s probably the last person Simon wants seeing him in this state, but he can’t leave. Instead, he lowers himself to the ground beside his shaking scene partner and hands him a tissue. Simon mumbles a thanks and wipes his eyes, breathing slowly to steady himself.

 

“What are you doing here?”   
“I could ask you the same.” Jeremy’s eyes flit about Simon’s face, looking absolutely wrecked, before continuing. “I left my hoodie. It’s cold out.”

 

This moment is unbearably awkward, the same silence he hates so much shrouding the two of them like an overbearing shadow.

 

“I can’t go home tonight.” Simon’s voice is shaky, the weakest Jeremy has ever heard it. “My sister’s away on some residential trip with her school, and… I can’t, Jeremy. I can’t see my parents. They’re fighting right now and I- I can’t face them, at all. It’s too much.”   
“So what’s your plan? Are you just going to sleep on the floor of the green room?”   
Simon just shrugs, hiccupping. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

 

Jeremy stares him down, eyes boring into Simon’s soul. He knows they’re not on the best terms right now, but what kind of human would he be if he left Simon like this?

 

“You’re coming back to my house.”   
“Jeremy, I can’t do that.”   
“Yes you can. We have a spare room, you don’t even have to talk to me. I can’t leave you here.””   
It’s oka-”   
“No, it’s not. I don’t work that way, my morals don’t line up. I know you don’t want me near you, and I’m not your biggest fan either, but I  _ cannot   _ leave you here like this. My family won’t mind, you can ignore me all night, I’ll give you some dinner and get out of your hair. We open in three days, I don’t wanna let you spiral right before opening night.”

 

Simon gives in eventually, sighing and collapsing in on himself. He rises to his feet on shaky legs and follows Jeremy out to his car. The parking lot, like the school, is painfully quiet. It’s the kind of environment where, were he alone, Jeremy would just start singing, but he doesn’t know Simon well enough to show that side of him. Which is a weird way of thinking, considering he’s about to make Simon the first person from Stanton to ever come to his house.

 

The car journey is awkward, the engine just that little bit too loud, the radio just that little bit too quiet. Simon doesn’t say a word, just looks out of the window. He’s almost like a shell of himself, and Jeremy is a little afraid. He knows what it’s like to have all the life sucked out of you, and he wouldn’t wish it on anybody.

 

After twenty minutes of unnerving half-silence, they make it to Jeremy’s driveway. Simon’s eyes are glassed over, not even a hint of recognition in them that they’ve even stopped moving. He’s staring forward but seeing nothing, and with every agonisingly slow second Jeremy finds himself more concerned. He turns off the engine and climbs out of the car, hoping Simon will follow him. He does, if hesitantly.

 

As they open the front door they’re hit with the smell of cooking, His mom appears to be making something Italian, and Jeremy smiles - she hasn’t  made dinner from scratch much for the last few years, and when she does it’s rarely stuff she ate as a kid. He loves it when she embraces her heritage.

 

“Smells good.” Simon mumbles, and it’s the first thing Jeremy’s heard him say since they left the school.   
“Yeah. You came round on a good day, a lot of the time it’s just microwave meals. I’ll show you to the spare room and get you some pyjamas from the linen closet. Uh, if you wanna go wash your face that’s cool.”   
“I’m okay. You don’t have to go to any trouble, I’ll just-”   
“Don’t sweat it, Simon. I’ll wash your clothes overnight so you don’t have to feel gross tomorrow. The only real rules are lights out by 12. Make as much noise as you like, nobody cares.”

 

Simon looks stunned as he follows Jeremy up the stairs. Jeremy isn’t surprised, everyone is always a little shocked when they’re not told to keep quiet. Everyone does, on instinct, but it’s not an exaggeration - not one member of the Travers family has a problem with noise.

 

When they reach the top of the stairs, Jeremy goes straight to the closet and pulls out a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt, most likely Ryan’s. With Ryan away at college, they can pretty much borrow any of his stuff without a fuss.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy can see Simon glancing up and down the hall, at every bedroom door. He wonders what his house must look like to an outsider. With all its mismatched paint and over-the-top door signs, photos everywhere, and no sense of order in where knick-knacks lay about. To Jeremy, it’s home, but maybe to someone like Simon it’s a mess.

 

He beckons again for his guest to follow him as they go through to the spare bedroom. Jeremy likes this room - he uses it as somewhere to escape to when sharing his room with a ten-year-old gets unbearable. The walls are a light blue colour, and there’s a framed family photo. Usually Jeremy hates that kind of thing, but it’s nice being able to see his dad’s face sometimes. The lights cast a warm glow over the room, and it makes the small space feel endlessly inviting (as if it doesn’t already with its king sized bed and myriad of cushions).

 

“Is that you?” Simon pipes up, and Jeremy breaks out of the trance he’d entered, eyes on the family picture. His gaze tracks Simon’s finger, pointing to a small boy in the photo. Jeremy smiles.

 

“That’s Ash, my brother. He’s a couple years older than me. I’m a little younger - see?” he guides Simon’s view to himself, a small seven-year-old with a Ben-10 t-shirt and a devious grin. “The baby is Ty - you’ll meet him later - and that’s Ryan, Ash, Megan, and my parents.” he explains, pointing out each face as he goes through the list.   
“Your dad looks just like you.”

 

Jeremy stiffens. He wasn’t expecting to hear that - usually he’s told that he’s the least like his dad, in so many ways. His dad was into cars, and camping, and all that manly stuff. He was never against Jeremy’s interest in theatre and dance, but he never understood it. There was always that distance between the two of them. He’s never heard anyone say they look alike, but it warms his heart.

 

“Th-thanks. Thank you.”   
“No problem. Where are your family, anyway? I’ve not seen anyone since we got here.”   
“Ty’s probably in the den on the Xbox, Meg’s staying over at a friend’s house and Ash is in his room. Mom’s cooking.”   
“Your dad?”   
Jeremy’s throat closes up, but he swallows and tries to bury the feeling in his stomach. “He died a few years back. 2014.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”   
“Don’t worry about it.”

 

He turns away from Simon, too uncomfortable to make eye contact. He’s not used to feeling this exposed. He’s been living in Stanton almost two years now, and Simon is the first person to see this side of him. To see his house, or know about his dad, or meet his family. Simon is the first person Jeremy has allowed to get close to him since leaving New Jersey. And that is… terrifying.

 

He’s relieved when the lights above them flash on and off a couple of times in quick succession. Simon’s brow furrows in confusion, but Jeremy does nothing but guide him downstairs. 

 

They’re interrupted at the bottom of the stairs by Tyler whizzing past, so fast they barely have time to stop. Jeremy hears a crash as Ty lands in his chair, and he smiles. Simon does too. They carry on moving towards the kitchen as Ash ambles in from outside. Jeremy catches this whiff of cigarette smoke even from this distance.

 

The first thing he does when they reach the kitchen is tap his mother on the shoulder. She turns to him, and he signs “Mom, this is Simon.” He finger-spells Simon’s name, but his mom shoots back a devilish smirk and forms the ‘S’ sign with her left hand, moving it around her face as if to say  _ beautiful _ . Jeremy blushes, knowing full well what she means - it’s the sign name they made up for Simon, after Jeremy went on a 45 minute rant after the first day of rehearsal about how beautiful his scene partner was.

 

Speaking of Simon, the boy is speechless. He looks so awkward it’s almost painful, smiling politely but not knowing how to respond. He jumps when Mrs. Travers makes eye contact and signs a few meaningless phrases to him.

 

“She says it’s nice to meet you, and you should make yourself a plate. We’re having ragu, it’s pasta with a meat sauce. She also hopes you’re not vegetarian.”   
“Oh- I, I’m not. Thank you, it’s looks lovely.”

 

Jeremy signs back Simon’s response, and then a little more. He rolls his eyes at her answer and turns back to Simon.

 

“We can’t eat upstairs because you’re a guest. I’m translating.”   
“Is this the boy Jeremy’s in love with?” Ty signs, a cheeky grin overtaking his features and his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.   
“Shut up before I break raw eggs in your bed, shrimp.” Jeremy quips back, but smiling enough that it’s obvious he’s not mad.   
“What was that?” Simon questions, confused as ever.   
“Nothing important.” Jeremy says with a smile.

 

The dinner is nice, all things considered. Eventually the back and forth is so smooth that it’s easy to forget there’s a language barrier. Jeremy is grateful to Simon for being one of the only people  _ ever  _ that doesn’t direct everything to him - he looks at the person he’s speaking to, making eye contact, and doesn’t talk down to them. When Jeremy is translating, he keeps looking at them instead of turning to Jeremy. He even shows some interest in learning signs - they teach him everybody’s sign names, and how to say thank you. He vows to teach himself more, once he’s got the show off his mind.

 

When the meal is over, Simon shakily signs “Thanks, Caroline.” and says goodnight to Tyler and Ash. They return upstairs and go into Jeremy’s room. Jeremy catches sight of Simon smiling at the door sign - it's been the same for almost two years now, with Tyler’s name in big bright letters and “also jeremy” scrawled beneath with black sharpie. 

 

When they go in, it's obvious which bed is Jeremy’s - the wall behind it is plastered with Playbills, no two the same. There are 31 in total, spanning from kid-friendly theatre right through to things like  _ Spring Awakening  _ and  _ The Book of Mormon.  _ Simon is in awe of them, leaning over the bed to gently stroke the pages. He looks at them with the same loving eyes he shoots Jeremy during their scene. Jeremy tries to hope that doesn’t mean anything, though he knows it likely does.

 

Alongside the Playbills hangs a pride flag, 2 foot by 4. In hindsight, Jeremy feels he should have taken it down. It feels like it’s almost shouting  _ ‘Hey Simon, look at me! I can be comfortable with this, why can’t you?!’.  _ Not that Jeremy doesn’t know. It’s only been a day since Simon opened up about how religious his family were, how his being gay would break them. 

 

“I didn’t know your family were deaf.”   
“I didn’t know yours were Catholic.”   
“Good point.” Simon trails off then, casting his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry what that means for you. For… us, I guess.” His voice cracks on the word  _ us _ , and Jeremy’s heart breaks alongside it.   
“It’s not your fault. I haven’t really been the best to you either.” Simon looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting the admission of guilt. “That kiss in the parking lot, it was unfair. I shouldn’t have forced it on you, and-”   
“I kissed back.”   
“That doesn’t matter. I never thought about how you felt, or what that kiss could do for you. I don’t think, ever, it’s a flaw of mine. All I could think about was how you looked at me in rehearsal, and I just wanted you to feel the same as me. I’ve always had this perfect family, who accepted me straight away, and I forget that not everyone has that. And I’m sorry.”   
“You don’t have to apologise.”   
“I want to.”

 

The two of them go quiet again, not quite sure how to pick up a normal conversation from that. Simon turned once again to the Playbills, flipping through the  _ Hamilton  _ one. His breath catches when he sees the castlist.

 

“You saw the original cast?”

 

Jeremy just nods, fidgeting. He worries about how privileged this makes him seem.

 

“I’ve never been to a Broadway show. I’ve always wanted to, but New York’s a pretty long way away. Plus, most of the shows I like are  _ utterly  _ sacreligious, apparently.” He puts on a voice as he says this, pretending to swoon. His smile is brighter than Jeremy has ever seen it. “How have you seen so  _ many? _ ”

“Back when I lived in Jersey, my best friend and I had a tradition. Every year for birthdays and Christmas, we’d each get three tickets - me, Sheridan, and her dad. Four shows a year, from when we were six right up until I moved here.”   
Simon’s eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, just for a second. “Shouldn’t there be 32?”   
For some reason, that statement makes Jeremy grin. “I saw Spring Awakening twice. Sheridan and I both got tickets for Christmas in 2015, and the second time I went with my family. It was the first time I’d ever been able to share theatre with them.”   
“How?” Simon pauses for a second, before rushing to correct himself. “Not to sound rude! I mean, just, if they can’t hear how do they… y’know, see a musical?”   
“The revival was by Deaf West. They mix ASL and English and there was captioning above the stage for stuff, even the stuff that was signed. Half the cast were deaf, which is how my parents heard about it.”   
“That’s… awesome. I didn’t even know about that.”   
“It was pretty amazing.”

 

Once again, the room goes quiet. Neither of them knows what to say, unsurprisingly - the situation is alien to them both. Letting people into their lives wasn’t a talent for either of them, especially with each other. Simon takes a sip of his drink and sighs.

 

The light outside has left them completely by now. While when they arrived at Jeremy’s house there had been a dusky twilight, it was pitch black now. There was some gentle light shining through from the moon, but not enough to illuminate the bedroom. Jeremy flicks a switch, and an array of fairy lights spark to life.

 

Simon smiles again, the smile that before tonight had been seemingly reserved for Lilette. Jeremy can’t help but feel proud knowing he’s been responsible for dragging it out of him several times now.

 

Simon rises to his feet, traversing the minefield of action figures and Hot Wheels covering Tyler’s side of the floor, to look at the CD collection. He flicks through them so carefully, the way Jeremy wishes everyone would treat stuff, and picks out an album. Coincidentally, one of Jeremy’s favourites.

 

“You like Handsome Ghost?” Simon sounds pleasantly surprised.   
“Love him. You wanna listen?”   
“Definitely.”

 

Yet again, Simon flashes a deep grin that would make Jeremy melt if he hadn’t spent so long teaching himself to control his gayness around Simon.

 

He puts the CD in the player on Jeremy’s desk and hits play, closing his eyes to feel the music move through him as  _ We Won’t Sleep  _ starts playing. He taps out the rhythm on the wood with his index finger, mouthing the words under his breath.

 

Jeremy’s mind drifts. Is this how Simon always is when he listens to music? Do all these tiny quirks exist when nobody is watching? Alone, in his house, would he gently part his lips along with the singer or would he belt the lyrics at the top of his lungs? Does he tap out the rhythm even in public, on the bus or in school? Or is all of this something he’s reserving for just now?

 

The song comes to an end just as Simon’s phone starts to ring. When he looks down at the screen, he deflates. Jeremy is pretty sure it’s his parents.

 

“Want me to answer it for you?”   
“Yes, please.”

 

Jeremy picks up the phone carefully, like it’s a bomb about ready to explode. In a way, it could be.

 

He is greeted by an angry man’s voice.

 

“Simon?”   
“Uh, no sorry, this is Simon’s friend. My name’s Jeremy?”   
“What are you doing with his phone?”   
“He’s, uh-” it takes him a second to think of a reason Simon would be avoiding this call. “He’s just in the bathroom, Mr. Saunders. He’s staying at my house tonight? I’m sure he would have said.”

 

When he looks up at Simon, the boy is desperately mouthing “don’t tell him about the play!” and miming slicing his throat, so Jeremy holds back from explaining how he know their son.

 

“We’ve had it planned for a couple weeks now, sir. We have an oral history assignment due tomorrow, we’re working on it overnight. I’m  _ sure  _ he told you, I remember him calling the other week.”   
Mr. Saunders is silent for a moment or so, as if mulling over Jeremy’s words. “I suppose we may have missed it, there’s a lot going on recently. Does he have all his things?”   
“Yes, sir.”   
“A way of getting to school tomorrow?”   
“Yes, sir.”   
“And it’s no trouble to your parents?”   
“Not at all, sir.”   
“Hmmm… well, tell him to call when he gets to school in the morning.”   
“Of course, sir. Thank you.”   
“Hmm.”

 

He hangs up, and Jeremy realises quite how…  _ nasty  _ he sounds. He isn’t sure how Simon puts up with this man, or how he could love him. Because on hearing Mr. Saunders’ voice, there didn’t seem to be any real warmth on his end.

 

Simon crumbles into the bed, sighing and running his hands over his face. He looks defeated, endlessly far from where he was just minutes before. It kills Jeremy to see, because it hits home quite how much Simon’s family affects him. And he knows that means it’s going to be difficult for Simon to ever be as comfortable as he clearly wants to be.

 

Jeremy leans over to the CD player and presses play, cranking the volume way up. As the opening bars of  _ Steps  _ kick in, Simon glances upward. Jeremy sings along with it, loud as he can and grinning like an idiot. After a few moments Simon gives in and joins him. By the end of the song, they’re dancing around the room without a care in the world, and Simon is so beautifully unguarded. They’re singing along at the top of their lungs, their voices in total harmony, and matching smiles on their faces.

 

In that moment, the peak of happiness, the peak of uncaring closeness, the peak of everything, Simon kisses him. Simon initiates a kiss, the kind Jeremy’s been picturing for months, and it was  _ Simon’s  _ decision.

 

Obviously, he can’t help but kiss back.

 

It’s different to the parking lot kiss. The same fire is still there, the sensation of  _ ‘Finally!’  _ that had swept them off their feet last time. But this one feels more tender, and less like a plea for truth. It feels real, like the kisses onstage. It feels  _ right _ .

 

When Simon pulls away, his eyes are sparkling and he’s short of air. His face of shock turns to yet another glorious smile as he catches his breath.

 

Jeremy doesn’t quite know how to respond, but his brain gives him the dumbest of ideas. And of course, he falls in love with it.

 

“You know… on my way here this afternoon, I though perhaps we would only... talk.”   
“So are you sorry we…?” Simon offers, catching on to where Jeremy’s going.

 

Except Jeremy can’t say the next line. Because it’s too much, too fast, and with Simon finally at a stage where he was ready to begin a moment like this, Jeremy was terrified of letting the L word scare him off again, even if it was in a character.

 

So instead, he kisses him again. It’s shorter this time, and when he pulls away he rests his forehead on Simon’s.

 

“Never.”

 

Simon smiles at him as the next song starts to play.  _ Believers _ , which happens to be Jeremy’s favourite. Needless to say, he’s pretty happy that this memory will forever be tied to it.

 

The lights flash on and off, and Jeremy turns regretfully to Simon.

 

“Ty’s coming up to bed. I think he has a test tomorrow so we probably shouldn’t keep him up.”

 

Simon doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s only 9:30. Then again, Jeremy doesn’t know what bedtimes are like in the Saunders household.

 

They make their way through to the spare room just as Tyler is coming up the stairs. He shoots Jeremy a quick hand sign - his index and pinky fingers up, his thumb out at a right angle and his two middle fingers curled into his palm. Jeremy returns the gesture.

 

“What did that mean?”   
“It means ‘ _ I love you’.” _ _   
_ “That’s cute.”

 

They exchange shy smiles again as they go and sit on the bed in the room Simon will be staying in tonight and switch on the TV. It’s only really there for background noise, as they while away the hours just talking. It’s nice, in all honesty. They both open up, even more so than they already had. Simon goes into a lot of detail about how things are at home, everything his parents had said about their marriage, the ever-looming threat of divorce. Jeremy talks about his dad, and the isolation he feels at being the only one in his family to hear, and how hard it can be to move away from the place you called home for so long. The two of them talk together about what this evening means for them, whether Simon wants to take it beyond these four walls. Wonderfully, he says yes, and it feels like the biggest weight off Jeremy’s shoulders. There are terms though, about how public they can be for now. Jeremy is okay with that, and he didn’t really expect less. It’s just nice to know that, when there’s nobody around, Simon will take his hand. That when they’re performing their scene it won’t be  _ just acting _ . It’s nice to know that Simon’s struggle isn’t going to be forever.

 

If you asked Jeremy the next morning what time he went to bed, he wouldn’t be able to say. All he knows is that, instead of waking up under a wall of Playbills with his little brother snoring loudly across the room, he was in the spare room, tangled up with the peaceful boy that had been in such turmoil not even 12 hours ago. The photo of his dad was smiling down on him, and that feeling was reassuring. Though his dad died before Jeremy had the chance to come out, his mom had always convinced him that he wouldn’t have had any trouble accepting his son.

 

Jeremy gently shakes Simon awake, knowing they have school in just under an hour. The smaller of them looks up, blinking and squinting in the sudden light, and smiles. He leans upwards and pecks jeremy gently on the lips, causing both their hearts to flutter.

 

“Crap...” Simon mumbles, sitting himself upright and noting his crumpled outfit. “We never washed my clothes last night.”   
“Shit! We don’t have time now.”   
“Could I borrow something?”   
“Uh- sure.” Jeremy stutters, and Simon thanks him.

 

They move over to the linen closet and Jeremy pulls out a short sleeved, navy blue button-down and some chinos from Ryan’s shelf. Once again, Simon conveys his gratitude, and slides into the bathroom to change. Jeremy re-enters his own bedroom and pulls an outfit out of the wardrobe. When he looks up, Ty is watching him with a mischievous grin on his face.

 

“Where were you last night?”   
“Ask no questions, hear no lies.” Jeremy signs back, and Tyler scoffs.   
“Okay, Lover-Boy.”

 

He shuts up at the impact of a pillow being gently thrown directly at his head.

 

Checking the clock, Jeremy pulls on his clothes, head still foggy from sleep. They have to leave within five minutes, or they’ll both be late - which would definitely look suspicious.

 

When he reenters the hall, Simon is waiting with his shoes on and bag packed. His uncovered arms are covered in goosebumps.

 

“Can I borrow a sweater?” he asks, rubbing his arms.   
“Sure, but we gotta run.”

 

They move down the stairs at speed, and Simon grabs a jacket from over the bannister, throwing it on as the jump into the car and pull out.

 

If anyone in the troupe recognises Simon’s hoodie as the one Jeremy wore to Robbie’s party, they don’t say.

 

And if they know what it means when the two raise their hands at each other, index and pinky fingers up and thumbs at a right angle, they don’t say anything about that either. 

**Author's Note:**

> pls pls pls leave a comment if u liked this or u want me to write more siremy bc comments are my biggest motivation like,,, ever


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